


Shadows and Cigarettes

by keiti221



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Pining, Platonic Relationships, Unrequited Love, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiti221/pseuds/keiti221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing could have been worse than being Hydra's prisoner of war. So how come Bucky Barnes is suffering all the same? (Basically, this is Bucky after being rescued and how he's dealing with what happened and all the conflicting feelings he's keeping close to his chest.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows and Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the sight of my own breath in the winter air. As ridiculous as that sounds, that is what lead me to writing this interaction between Bucky and Peggy. That and I wanted to explore him a little more and what he might have been going through after Steve rescued him and the others.

The howling midnight air closes in around Bucky’s shrouded form amid the trees surrounding camp. He shivers and pulls his sleeves down lower around his wrists, wishing he had grabbed his jacket before abruptly leaving his cohorts. Huddling over his cigarette, he puffs the smoke into the atmosphere, following up the cloud with his own icy breath.

“James?”

Turning a heel, Bucky finds Peggy approaching slowly, her feet sinking in the rain wet dirt as she makes her way toward him.

Her soft voice follows up his name with a worrisome statement, “Steve’s looking for you.” She stops a few feet away, respecting the fact that he clearly wishes to be alone. “What happened back there?”

He drops the stub of his cigarette and stomps it beneath his boot, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I just- I couldn’t be around the guys anymore.”

“Was it the conversation? I know Dugan can be brash about his words when discussing being a prisoner of war. He’s not the most delicate of people.”

“No-no. Hydra… It was bad. But in a way I’m grateful that they’re the rogue science division instead of the actual Nazis.” He hesitates, glancing up at her to gage her reaction. “That sounds crazy doesn’t it? Being happy that you were a POW of Hydra versus Hitler.”

She moves to mirror him, leaning against a tree cattycorner to his. “Perhaps it might not if you’d explain what you mean.”

“We all know what Hitler is doing. How awful it is, how disgusting his actions are. The way he’s treating the Jews. Hell that’s why we all signed up, to stop him. But people- people don’t realize he’s targeting more than one subsection of individuals.”

Peggy nods. “You’re referring to the disabled and the homosexuals.”

Bucky pulls another cigarette from his pocket, hands shaking as he tries to light it. He takes a long drag before speaking. “Exactly.”

“Why should you fear the Nazi regime? You’re not disabled.”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “I know.”

“Falsworth mentioned The Bin. He found it humorous.” She watches Bucky’s face contort as he hinders his emotions from surfacing. “You see it a different way. What was it?”

Cigarette back between his lips, Bucky speaks slowly, “All captured became workers. It was just how Hydra did it. But The Bin was for _special_ men. The fairies.”

“How did they know?”

Bucky shrugs. “You got me. Some men wore it on their sleeves. Other men were chosen simply because they stood out in the wrong way. The guards used to say that you could tell a fairy by the way he walked because he liked a man up his ass.”

Peggy’s face reddens in comprehension of the comment, still visible with the little light of the moon and the fire some distance away. She stutters out a question, clearly expecting the same answer already in her head. “W-what did they do?”

“What do they always do? They beat them. Then they’d work them endlessly, till they dropped. If a man didn’t wake up in a few hours, he was blasted with one of those guns we brought back. Dust without a chance.”

“And you?”

Bucky smirks, the pain painted across his grin. “What about me? Are you asking if they noticed?”

Her voice lowers in volume, her response barely over a whisper, “Yes.”

“Of _course_ they did.” He puffs the cigarette and tilts his head back, exhaling slowly. “But Zola got to me first.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know which would have been worse.”

She crosses her arms across her torso, holding herself tightly against the wind. “So why out of all these people in the camp do you tell me? You’re closest to Steve.”

“That’s the thing, Peg. He’s not dumb. He’d figure out that my actions have never been even slightly platonic.”

“Is that really so bad?”

“It depends. He could accept me and go on with his life. _Or_ he could despise me and I’d never see him again.”

“That sounds a tad melodramatic, doesn’t it? He’s your _best_ friend. Surely he’d understand to some extent. You don’t just throw away a ten-plus year relationship for nothing! He’s worried about you. If anything, your constant presence on his mind should tell you something. That you’re _worth_ his adoration. He clearly loves you. Even if it’s not in the same way.”

Bucky flicks a few cinders to the ground and sighs, “Yeah well we have a while more here. Plenty of time to spill my guts another night.”

“James?”

“Hmm?”

She steps forward, snatching the cigarette from his fingers, the embers glowing gently against the shine of her red nail polish as she takes a drag. “I’m going to ask again, mostly because I’m a lady and we’re a curious breed. Why did you choose to trust _me_ with your secret?”

Bucky smirks, face brightening as he stands off of the tree. “It’s evident that you like men, that’s a given, what with your flirting with Steve.”

She blushes but stands firm, waiting for him to go on.

“But I doubt many people have noticed as well as I have, you eying the redheaded chorus girl.”

Her eyes widen and she gasps, “Excuse me?”

“Oh, please, Peggy. Don’t try to deny it. I saw you, all smiles and flirts as you compliment her hair. And her eyes. And her figure. Oh that’s the best one. I’m willing to bet, if you were a man for the night, you’d go right to her tent and screw her brains out.”

Peggy drops the cigarette and grinds it beneath her heel, standing upright and poking Bucky in the chest. “I don’t have to be a man to do that.”

Bucky snickers and holds his hands up. “You’re right, you’re right. Peggy Carter can do anything she pleases. And anyone apparently.”

“You’re damn right.” She glances over her shoulder, at the camp. “Isn’t it time you head back?”

“I suppose so; you just murdered my last cigarette.”

“Sorry.” She straightens her skirt and timidly takes a step forward into the muddy mess, ruining her t-strap shoes. “What were those anyhow? They are delightful.”

“Chamomile. I smoke them when I can’t sleep or when I’m a mess.”

“Is that frequently?”

Bucky cracks a grin. “I have four cartons under my cot. You tell me.”

She smiles and he helps her across the empty field and back into camp. She stops at the now empty fire pit and nods toward the furthest tent. “He’s still expecting you. Maybe it’s time you let him in.”

“I don’t know, Peggy. That’s so much easier said than done.”

She grabs his hand and pats it before giving it a kiss, leaving a circle of red lipstick on his palm. “I have faith you’ll do what needs to be done. Even if it isn’t tonight.”

He thanks her and ventures the extra five hundred feet out to the tent he shares with Steve. Standing at the front, he takes a deep breath and ducks inside.


End file.
